Снег и пепел: Snow & Ash
by Whyntir
Summary: He couldn't tell the difference between the snow and ash. They blended together so perfectly, it wasn't until one melted did the other stand out. Despite it all, he smiled. Cleaned up and coherent! A formal rewrite of Падающие звезды Raining Stars .
1. Snow And Ash

"_I didn't know."_

_Please come back._

"_I'm sorry."_

_Please come back._

"_I didn't mean to hurt you."_

_They won't come back._

"_When you tease people, hurt them, it scars their minds more than their bodies. It is much more painful to have those scars on the mind, because they never seem to fully close. Just the slightest prodding and they tear back open even wider than before. It torments them even in their subconscious and runs deeper than the bones, than a sword through the heart. Do you understand any of this Ivan?"_

_Not then, not at that time. He didn't know what those words meant. Now he did, now he wanted to show he did understand, but no one could see. No one would see. No one wanted to see._

_

* * *

_

The snowy landscape was filled with the bodies of soldiers and civilians sleeping in the endless white of death, forever uncaring of the world and its affairs. Families left behind who would always remember, even if the dead didn't bother to. And He remembered, even as he stared on into the hatred filled green eyes of his enemy. Nothing to stop the invaders, nothing to protect him through their vengeful invasion, what use was this metal pipe now when it was all he had between certain defeat and a miraculous victory. This had been a long time coming, and finally the wait was over.

Puffs of heated air billowed around his face as he panted, unused to the everlasting chill of the Arctic Circle. To think, setting fire upon Moscow and St. Petersburg had been nothing, chasing after the vile Demon of the East all the way to Murmansk. Here was where it ended. Toris stood behind his friend, unsure of what to look at. He couldn't bear to watch his enemy, the way the violet eyes burned into his soul. Still, to look at the city was just as harmful, the flames licking the brilliant buildings; he could even see the golden domes of the church he had loved so much during _that_ time. The time he didn't want to remember, because while it justified what was happening, it also brought too many good memories. Memories that hurt now more than the darker memories ever could, the AK rifle model in his hands shaking lightly in his grip as they rushed and ebbed around him like a tide.

Poland leveled his breathing, the cold air burning his lung, exhilarating the predator within him. The chase was over, but the fight was just beginning. He could not imagine a better finale; wind howling in protest as snow and ash was hurled in their faces, a fire raging behind the Devil himself, and the bodies of men and women and children and elderly who lay in the ice with their blood staining the white purity of heaven. And it caused his heart to race, his mind so far behind compared to his body. He didn't even notice how his _Ishapore 2A1_, once raised as a gun, suddenly became a sword with its bayonet gleaming in the demonic light. His emerald irises soaked up the Hellfire as a feral smile split his face.

"So long now, so long you have run away, so long you have cowered up here in your frozen castle. How does it feel to watch as your world collapses around you in a plume of smoke and ash?" he barked, his voice losing the rhythm the world had grown accustomed to. He sounded dangerous, he _felt_ dangerous. It was the best feeling he had in his life.

Ivan looked surprised at the remark, seeing that Poland obviously wanted an answer. He glanced up to the monotonic, overcast sky and the fluffy bits of thin ice that looked so childishly innocent as they fluttered to the ground, but he knew the song of deception they whispered. He held his hand out to touch them to the brown leather. As they landed gently on his outstretched fingers, they melted from the heat of his fever, but some white flakes remained. He blinked in surprise, the ashes blending in so carefully that he didn't even know the difference. His lips twitched into a meager smile, "It feels like winter, Poland. The winter is so beautiful, but deadly and malicious, never knowing if you'll make it through to the end. Yes, just like winter: it'll always arrive sooner or later, bringing destruction and death as a white cape that smothers all underneath."

"How poetic Russia," Feliks sneered, "You, like, never did age well with the times."

"I shall take that as a compliment." His hand gripped tighter around the neck of metal in his hands. He may not be as strong as he was when younger days seemed to inch by, every second being milked to the fullest, but he was not going to beg for mercy. He had always been too proud for that. He could recall the heart-filled cries from over the centuries building a cocoon around his mind.

* * *

"_Follow the Motherland into war!"

* * *

_

"_Hear her call, come, and raise your voices with her!"_

* * *

"_Free the Motherland!"_

* * *

"_Save the Motherland!"_

* * *

"_She shall stand, now, and forever. Nothing shall kill the Motherland. She shall stand, erect and powerful, never faltering, never wavering. She will love and protect her children until the end of the world. God Bless the Motherland, and keep her safe."_

* * *

If only they knew. He lifted his pipe, barring his chest from any attack.

'_For my children of the many centuries. For their long suffering and sacrifices. For their blood they spilt time and time again. Now is the time that I save you,'_ he thought hardening his resolve. He held out his pipe with a quick spin of his wrist, the pipe gripped as a saber, "If I fall, I shall never die."

"We'll see about that," Feliks sneered. Toris was caught off guard as his friend dashed forward, aiming for the taller country's chest. The pipe swung up at the last second, throwing the gun off balance. Ivan sidestepped and pushed the small blonde pass him, almost into the snow. Poland whirled around and came back with another attack, this time making Russia back away from the ferocity of the blows. Lithuania could see that he was weak, too weak to put up much of a resistance. The pipe was slow in his hands, barely blocking the vicious blows Feliks rained upon him. They were nothing but silhouettes against the raging fire that consumed the city.

* * *

_Burned flesh, charred bodies not yet dead, but no longer living reaching out. Their mouths open, as they sobbed no tears left in their dried bodies. A corpse of a baby, left without a chance for life, shriveled on the ground of a burning building.

* * *

_

He took a step back, why was he seeing these people, they were not his children, but were Russia's. His stomach churned from the smell of cooking meat filled his nostrils, smoke and ash coating his mouth, tar flowing thickly through his blood. Whatever was happening, he knew not what brought it on. It seemed to affect Poland as well, because he suddenly halted in his attack and began coughing, turning deathly pale in the orange light. Ivan took his chance and swung, impacting his opponent in the left side of his jaw. The blonde fell into the snow with a sickening thud, blood seeping between his parted lips and into the snow.

Lithuania gasped and took an unsteady step closer, not sure whether to be worried for Feliks or Ivan. Russia turned to face him and he gasped at the radical change. His eyes glowed unnaturally in the light of the flames, hard and frozen, shielding from pain and loneliness. He stepped towards the brunet, his near white hair a bright orange, "Is this what you wanted Lithuania? To erase the past for good?"

"Y-yes," he asserted, though his mind was not with him. _'No!'_ his thoughts screamed, _'You were my good friend before that day. You never abused me or raised your voice. You were careful and cautious with your underlings and children. Why has it come to this? Why have we been brought to this?'

* * *

_

"_BRING US THE CZAR! THIS NATION HAS GONE MAD!"_

"_FREEDOM AND HIGHER WAGES!"_

"_THINK OF OUR SUFFRAGE!"_

_The peasants lined the way to the palace; Ivan gazed dejectedly out the window at the citizens. The Czar was out having tea, Toris came and informed him; always so helpful, what would Russia do without the smaller country? Still, the insults were hurled, panic began to rise inside his gut. Had he worked so hard just for this? Made his people strong and a force to be reckoned with just so they could rip him down and destroy the world he had made for them. His children . . . so ungrateful and violent, their words hurt more than any sword or rifle could._

"_Why does it always end up like this . . .? I finally made this nation stronger and more prestigious than others by myself. I worked so hard . . . why is it nothing goes right . . .? Why do they always end up hating me?" The words strangled him, his throat, his heart; he was suffocating from the inside. Lithuania stayed silent, not sure where to go from that statement. Tears rolled down Russia's round cheeks, the pain mangling him, how was he to live through this. "Everyone says it's my fault. _MY _fault. I've endured it for centuries . . . Why can't everyone just get along nicely with each other . . .?"_

_What happened next, he didn't know. The seconds afterwards, he came up with a solution to it all, a fix for all the hate. Hate stemmed from these people who shouted insults to him, threatened to destroy him. If you know you'll be killed, kill them first._

_He threw open the window with a shaky smile, "Lithuania?"_

"_I-Ivan!"_

"_We don't want children . . ." his voice changed from moderately deep to that of a small child, a rifle resting in his grasp, "who can't play nice . . . right?"

* * *

_

"I'm tired Lithuania," Ivan's voice cut his memory off, "I'm tired of all the fighting, all the struggles. I only wish for my people to be safe. I cannot give in, not you or anyone else."

A movement in the snow caught Toris' eye for just a moment before he recognized the blonde hair, the smoldering green eyes, blood dribbling down their chin. He opened his mouth, to respond to Russia, to warn him? Who would know, for surely even he did not know himself. The sad, violet eyes widened in surprise, pain, and shock. What would have been a flesh wound had caused more internal trauma than his body could handle. He was weak with fever, not being able to heal from the pain coiling through his body. Toris watched in fear, shock, what would happen? Surely Ivan would simply beat them senseless with his pipe, that demon look in his eyes. Would Lithuania fall back under Russia, after all the years of freedom, captured once more, just like that? The sand colored hair slowly darkened, blood trickling thickly down his temple, black in shadow of the fire. He collapsed to the ground.

Ivan didn't know what to make of this, the snow was no longer cold, but warm like a blanket. Maybe it was ash, or perhaps the fire was getting to him. The world was a beautiful white and he closed his eyes. The snow became clouds and he was flying, the sun was warm on his back No, it was a little more intimate. Like the warmth of a soft embrace after being in a blizzard. He had felt it many times as a small child after playing outside with Natalya all day in the snow. His big sister Yekaterina would wipe the snow off his garments, change him into his sleep clothes, and hug him tight with a kiss on his cold nose. He felt that warmth snuggled into bed with his sisters on either side of him on the coldest nights. It was warmth that happiness planted in the heart that could thaw even the coldest blizzards.

He smiled gently as he saw his sisters in a field below him, waiting in a field of sunflowers. The amethyst eyes fluttered close, snow and ash resting on his dark eyelashes. He no longer felt the cold.

* * *

**A/N: Tell me what you think . . .**


	2. Child with the Violet Eyes

_Toris watched in awe as the wind picked up, blowing around the body of the fallen nation. The snow and ash from both the heavens and the drifts created a vortex. Never, in his long life, had he ever seen such a sight. Poland as well sat stunned a distance away. The gloved hands turned white from the fingertips to the palm before the form collapsed altogether into a small drift of snow that was promptly whipped up by the whirlwind. His feet started as well, his body disintegrating into the snowstorm. The large flakes fell faster, the fire of the city dying out. The last to leave was the peaceful face, a faint smile on his lips. He was tired no longer, he suffered no more. Lithuania closed his eyes the small child over the bridge haunted his mind._

"_**We will be friends, in the future."**_

_When he opened his green eyes, there was nothing. The wind died away, scattering any remains of the other nation across the land. He would have mourned if the situation had been just a little different, but now he couldn't. To lament for an enemy was a time long past. Now there was only indiscriminant death, ever since the Second World War. How long ago that had been. His chest tightened at the years that had passed since then; a whole century since the fall of Hitler. Look at what they had reduced themselves to: heartless monsters with no pity._

"_We won," Poland breathed, as though he couldn't believe the words he spoke, "He's gone." Toris couldn't respond, his own voice fleeing from him, his tongue rebelling against his will. The blonde's emerald eyes widened as a smile spread across his face, "We won! We conquered and destroyed Russia! We did what even America couldn't accomplish!"_

"_Yes." His voice was weak, quivering. He had helped in the death of a friend. He had recognized those eyes, those dark, tired eyes. They were His eyes, the old Russia's, before 1905. If he had just a few more minutes, he might have been able to talk him into surrendering, or negotiated a ceasefire. But that time had passed, it was too late now, for anything._

_Feliks held his hand out to the destroyed city and frozen wasteland, "This is all ours! We own this, permanently. Oh wow Liet; this brings back memories of our prime, doesn't it. Like, what about those years we owned this place when we were first married? Now it's ours and there is no meddlesome Russia to get in our way!" Lithuania followed the other's gesture, the ruined city, the burned carcasses, the smell of ash and death. Sure__, there were still some cities; some people residing within the boarders as well. Then there was the added advantage that they could travel across continents without leaving their home. But the winters were harsh, just as Russia put it. The winter didn't know mercy, nor love. It was cold in both their nations, granted, but nothing compared to the giant icebox that resided above the rest of the world. The cold of the land made Ivan upset often; his flowers were always dying in the snow when the winter called back with a vengeance, despite the season being well into spring._

"_It's all . . . ours'."_

* * *

Skeptical stares greeted them as they finished the story. No, it hadn't been the entire thing, and Poland had contributed to most of the talking. Still, the gazes of the other countries were heavy on him. Toris fidgeted in his chair and looked at his hands while Poland stood on the table wearing nothing but a red mini-skirt and knee-high boot, hands planted firmly on his hips.

"You honestly expect us to believe every word you've said?" England inquired with a bushy eyebrow raised questioningly, the china teacup halfway to his lips before he took an idle sip. It was true that the three nations had all been missing from the UN meetings as of late, but most chalked it up to infrastructural renewal. Russia had proclaimed at the last meeting that he was actually present for that he would be withdrawing from the international realm for a while to strengthen his internal affairs. Hence why no one was really looking for him like crazy when he missed the past three annual meetings, but they kept his chair waiting for his return. One couldn't very well forget the world's largest country.

France rested his cheek on the heel of his hand, smirking, and "I think history has proven that _no one_ can simply walk into that wasteland and take over from Moscow."

"Did you all, like, totally not hear a word I said?" Poland snapped from his vantage point on the oak table, "We didn't take over the country. Russia is _dead_, never coming back."

"I tried that guys, it didn't work," America called from his seat, gulping down his hamburgers. Lord knew the United States tied, for nearly fifty years he participated in the Cold War and not once could he call a decisive win. How was it that these countries that all claimed the role of Superpower throughout history could never lay a finger on Russia? He knew of course, but at the same time, the question was so big that not everything could be answered with the word _'Partisans'_.

Belarus stood from her seat, "Liars! Such weak fools like you could never lay a finger on my brother!" Disgust and hatred burning like an inferno in her blue irises. Across the table, Ukraine looked just about ready to cry, the tears just needed to gather and brink the lid. America munched on his last hamburger, getting annoyed with all the talk about death and such; it was actually spoiling his appetite.

"Why not go check for ourselves?" America suggested, "I propose an international fieldtrip!"

* * *

Silence. There was nothing left, they knew the road by the way it cut so plainly into trees, but that was the only sign that any form of civilization existed. The iron fence was gone, the mansion disappeared, and the foundation was just a pile of stones in one courners of the vast meadow which had been Russia's rather fancy estate.

"As you can see, like, not a trace; everything that we didn't find useful we totally burned. We'll be building a totally new house here soon. The floor plans are, like, being written up as we speak."

Lithuania could have sworn that Belarus would have clawed at them, pulling her knives out and killing them over and over. Much to his surprise, it was just about the exact opposite, she looked scared as she clung to her sister, who was trying to keep composure as to comfort the younger. Even America stared on like someone had punched him in the gut.

Shivering violently, Ravis lifted his foot barely an inch off the ground and placed it forward, as though this was all an illusion and the second he placed his foot down Russia would magically appear behind him. With a final whimper and his eyes screwed shut, the foot came down. A summer breeze swept over them, the leaves of the birch trees that surrounded the empty void. It wasn't very cold, but a shiver ran down their backs and seemed to affect everyone but Poland, but nothing more happened. Slowly, Latvia placed in another foot, his shaking dissipating with every step. Not long after, Estonia followed, then Prussia and, as though they had all frozen, they felt heat return to them slowly and started to look around.

* * *

Alfred felt that there was something lacking, and it bugged the hell out of him. What could it be? He looked around; ignoring the exploring bodies that seemed to feel the need to ensure it wasn't an illusion. He overheard a soft voice in the silence and turned. Belarus had detached herself from Katyusha and was stumbling around the open field.

"Vanya, p-please Vanya, where did you go? I promise I won't hurt you if you come out now brother. Vanya, I don't like this game, you hide too well," her blue eyes were glazed with an overwhelming amount of emotions. Her hands were held in front of her searching for something that wasn't there. "Where are you? We can still plant your sunflowers Vanya; it isn't too late just yet. The yard looks so empty without them." Suddenly, in the very center of the clearing, she collapsed to her knees, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. "VANYA! PLEASE COME BACK!" Her shoulders heaved as she sobbed and wailed, but that did answer his thoughts. The sunflowers were gone.

* * *

"_What's with the love affair with those plants?"_

_He had laughed as though it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. "They are my little suns. Lights in this dark world of uncertainty. They mean the world to me."_

* * *

"He must be gone then," Alfred mused to himself, "Odd, the world just got a little darker."

* * *

Gilbert in particular was venturing farther into the wide space. He could still see the steel door of the basement that he had spent so many nights in. It would be a useful addition to the new home Poland had informed them about. As he scanned around, trying to recall where the sitting room and kitchen were, something caught his eyes. A small remnant of ash covered a small section of the ground close to the trees where Russian olive shrubs sprawled about. Their fruits were either already eaten or harvested, either way; the flowers were preparing to bloom, though autumn was still a few weeks away. The ash was white, much like snow on the short grasses, but it wasn't so much the soot as it was what protruded out of the patch. The distinct sprout of a sunflower reaching for the sun. He knelt to inspect the sprig to see that it grew thin and fragile, choked by the dead embers that had buried it. Without thinking, his pale hands swiped away the offensive powder, revealing the entirety of the plant.

* * *

"_You really love those stupid plants, don't you?"_

"_Yes. They are my own little suns that I get to nurture. I guess I just feel wanted having something that depends on me so lovingly and only succeeds to make me happy."_

* * *

There was a rustling in the bushes and he jumped up from his crouching position. He just barely caught sight of a small body weaving through the trees, porcelain blonde hair flitting behind them as they ran, laughter floating on the wind, though no one seemed to notice it. Once they were a ways away, they stopped and turned back. Violet met red for a few vital moments before the child laughed again and disappeared.

"My god," he whispered as he stepped back dazed, his mind reeling, "I know you, I know you."

* * *

_He had just finished building his home and changed his name to Prussia. He was still pretty small, but that would change. He smirked, looking over his handiwork one last time with a satisfied laugh. "Best to go see what my neighbors are like," he thought aloud, drawing his sword and traveling along. He passed by France without being noticed, a growing nation who was already much bigger than he was. Then there was Poland and Lithuania, both full grown and strong. He could take them though; no Pagans could stand against the Knights of Maria._

"_Oh! What are you doing here?" a small voice behind him chirped, causing him to jump. The weather was cold, so Prussia had bundled himself up, but it was nothing in contrast to the harsh winters of the land he entered. A small boy with a fur hat stood behind him, his violet eyes large in curiosity. He was a little taller than Gilbert, but that was nothing!_

"_I'm looking around at my new neighbors. I am Prussia! The next greatest power Europe will ever see!"_

_The boy with violet eyes giggled, "Truly? You and I are quite alike Prussia. I am Russia! I too plan on becoming powerful and large. Maybe we can be friends in the future."_

* * *

'_How, oh god how!'_ he thought in shock, _'Can you really not die!'_

His feet then stepped forward without his mind. He wanted to know. He _needed_ to know. "How are you alive? Please, show me your secret." He ran after him into the birch trees, no one noticing his absence. He just had to know.


	3. Announcement

Hello, you may have figured I must have died eons ago. No updates in over a year almost, nothing quite substantial. I apologize. Many of my stories are being discontinued for various reasons, mainly because my sense of literary refinement that has developed over time no longer allows me to continue due to their poor quality. Of this list includes:

_A House Divided_

_Loving It_

_Singing Through Bars_

_Song of the Century_

_Bewitched_

_The Cage_

_Not Like You_

_Fallen Heart_

* * *

However, I have not quit. Over this extended period of absence, I have been outlining remakes of certain stories that deserve better and/or more.

_Waving Flag_

_Don't Leave Me Here_

_In this Diary_

_One of Nothing_

_Code Geass_

Please be patient, I will soon have a first chapter out for my new work within the next month or two. I sincerely apologize. From now on, I will carefully plan works and not start too many that I cannot finish. Here are some peeks at the new, refined, mature style you will be getting soon.

* * *

_Dance Among the Loti _(Waving Flag Remake)

"Many things fade," he spoke in a near whisper, his voice heavy with weariness, as though he carried some invisible weight, "Youth, beauty, good friends, even memories. Eventually, even the fact that once we existed tapers off to a mere whimsy of a person glancing at a name upon a gravestone, realizing it means nothing to them."

* * *

_Crimson Tears of Lost Souls _(Don't Leave Me Here Remake)

Gunfire rained around me, seeming to bounce off the fog itself; it was thick enough, so I couldn't say I would have been surprised had that really been the case. It came from all sides, from out of the dismal gray, screams and distorted commands drowned out in the orchestra of explosions. Now and then, from the corner of my eye, I could just make out dark figures in the distance before they slipped just out of view. Sweat beaded under the helmet, rolling down my brow and the bridge of my nose, despite the chill of the bog. I made to swipe it as a figure appeared, this one staying. Rolling my shoulders, lifting the rifle that seemed to suddenly gain another twenty pounds, I took aim. Something was very wrong, he walked with a wide stance and appeared unarmed, shuffling right past me, seemingly more interested in something else, not even noting my existence. The second I tightened my hold around the trigger, a cold sense of dread filled me; I knew immediately I had made a terrible mistake.

* * *

I hope you will come and see my new works as they come out and continue supporting me and them. I hope to entertain you on an entirely new level than the works you have seen so far. Thank you.


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